Mephisto Waltz

by Bridgett Kay Specht

  We all gathered in the calefactory on Christmas morning, sitting in small groups and talking quietly while Ms. Sweeny and Pastor Smith handed out the gifts. James, Alice, Julian and I sat on the carpet near the tree, stealing candy canes off of the branches. James and Julian were still in their pajamas, their hair wild and uncombed, but the dress code seemed to be relaxed for the morning. Several other students were also in their pajamas; Grace was even wearing pajama pants under her robe. Ms. Sweeny and Pastor Smith, though, ignored the state of wardrobe confusion, and handed each person their packages with a warm smile.

  James and Julian tore into their gifts as quickly as they could, with childlike excitement, but Alice ignored the two large parcels beside her, instead lying under the tree and looking up through the branches with an uncharacteristically peaceful expression on her face.

  I had a huge parcel, filled with an abundance of presents, all individually hand-wrapped from Mother, Daddy, and Aunt Elizabeth. I received beautiful antique earrings, a warm angora sweater, a pair of soft, white leather gloves, and several books and CDs. They were all beautiful gifts, but as I thought about the people who had sent them, my spirits sank. I imagined Mother, Daddy, and Aunt Elizabeth sitting together at that very moment, unwrapping the gifts I had sent them. It would be quiet, I thought, without Mark and I there to loudly exclaim over the contents of our stockings, or sing funny versions of Christmas songs, which we knew annoyed Mother. Perhaps, I imagined, Aunt Elizabeth would play piano to lighten the mood, or perhaps they would just say a silent prayer, in remembrance of Mark.

  I reverently gathered all of my gifts and began to place them back into the large box they’d been sent in, so I could carry them back to my room, but I was surprised to see another package that I had missed in the bottom of the box. The paper was quite different from the paper that my parents had used, and was wrapped far more sloppily than Mother or Aunt Elizabeth usually wrapped their gifts. I examined the wrapping, but there was no label. I was contemplating who could have sent it, when James and Julian’s raucous laughter interrupted my thoughts.

  “Miranda, see what my sister sent me?” James said, holding up a pair of socks covered in bright, twinkling lights, which had apparently been the source of Julian’s amusement.

  “You should wear those during our play, tonight,” I said. “You’ll be the only shepherd with blinking socks.”

  “Good idea,” Julian agreed.

  “Who is that gift from, Miranda?” James asked, putting his socks on.

  “I don’t know. The label seems to have come off,” I said.

  “Maybe there’s a card inside,” Julian said, helping himself to another candy cane.

  I opened the package and inside, wrapped carefully in white tissue paper, was a delicate, porcelain music box. On top of the music box was the figure of a little girl in a white nightgown, dancing and holding a nutcracker over her head.

  “Clara… it can’t be,” I whispered to myself.

  I turned the key on the music box a few times, and the first few notes of Waltz of the Snowflakes shimmered in the air. I put the music box gently on the floor and examined the package. There, tucked between the white folds of tissue paper, was a white envelope which was far too thick to contain a simple card. My heart leapt with hope, yet if I was correct in my guess, and Clara had managed to send me a message, I was unable to verify my suspicions in public. I pushed the envelope further into the box until it was completely hidden by the tissue paper, just in time to avoid Ms. Sweeny’s gaze. She was walking around the room, examining the gifts that everyone had received.

  “That’s a pretty music-box, Miranda. Who sent it to you?”

  “My Aunt Elizabeth,” I lied quickly. I could see Alice, through the branches of the Christmas tree, frown as though in thought. Ms. Sweeny followed my gaze.

  “Alice, are you asleep?” Ms. Sweeny asked.

  “No, the lights just look really cool from here,” Alice replied.

  “Aren’t you going to open your presents?” Ms. Sweeny persisted.

  Alice didn’t answer, but sat up, grabbed the biggest parcel beside her, and began mechanically unwrapping her gifts. Ms. Sweeny smiled encouragingly, and said

  “James, Julian, you should go get dressed,” before she walked to the next group.

  “The music box with Clara on it is from your aunt?” Alice said skeptically after the others had gone.

  “I don’t know, but there’s a letter. You won’t tell, will you?”

  “Of course not,” Alice said as she returned to her gifts. As I watched her open her gifts, I was seized by a sudden, painful stab of déjà vu. In her hands, with the shiny, silver wrapping half-torn away, was a volume of Byron’s poetry- identical in every way to the one Mark had given me the previous Christmas.

  I must have worn a shocked expression, because Alice said, “Miranda, are you okay?”

  I cleared my throat and smiled as best I could. “I just- I like Lord Byron, too.”

  “Oh, yes, my brother gave this to me- well, my half-brother. I love Byron, but I’m sure that I won’t be allowed to keep this. It’s a shame.” She laid the book aside tenderly.

  “Are you and your brother close?” I asked.

  “He’s the only person in the family who ever gave a damn about me,” Alice said. “You see, I’m the shameful product of an affair. My stepfather and stepmother hate me because I remind them of the affair, my mom sees me as a mistake, and my dad sees me as a responsibility- a punishment for his mistake. My brother, though, just treats me like his sister. He’s not a very good person, and he’s done awful things to me more than once, but I always forgive him, because he’s the closest thing to family I’ve ever known.”

  Alice seemed embarrassed by the revelation she’d just made about herself, and quickly packed her presents back up and took them to her dorm, leaving me to my thoughts.

  There was a large Christmas brunch after we’d finished opening our gifts, but I had little appetite. I pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. My mind was occupied with the mystery of the music box, but I was also affected by what Alice had revealed about herself. I had always taken the fact that my parents loved me for granted. I couldn’t imagine living as Alice had lived; knowing that her parents had never loved or wanted her. The idea that Alice was able to forgive her brother, simply because she knew he loved her, gave me new feelings of respect and admiration for her.

  #

  In the afternoon, we went into town to attend a Christmas service at the church which was affiliated with Prodigal Ministries. While there, we performed the nativity play we’d worked so hard rehearsing all week. The play was wildly successful, and everyone seemed to be in a better mood as a result. In fact, by the time we’d returned to the abbey, and sat down to our Christmas dinner in the refectory, there was a boisterous, party-like atmosphere. Even after we’d finished eating, we stayed in the refectory well into the night, laughing, talking, and taking advantage of this very rare opportunity to have fun. At some point, someone brought in the radio from the calefactory, and tuned into an oldies station. Quite a few people, James and Alice included, were dancing. Dr. Caleb had left to spend Christmas with family, and so was not present to object, and Ms. Sweeny and Pastor Smith seemed content to let us do as we liked. In fact, their flushed, laughing faces reminded me a bit of the way Amber had looked at the fall dance.

  “You are a marvelous dancer,” James said to Alice as they danced a boisterous jitterbug. “Did you take lessons before taking liturgical dance, here?”

  “When I was little, I did, but I quit at the age of 10. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed dancing. When I leave here, I’m going to enroll in ballet or modern dance classes. You aren’t a bad dancer, yourself, by the way.”

  “I’m a triple threat!” James said proudly. “I’m not supposed to dance anymore, though. It’s not a very masculine activity.”

  “That’s idiotic,” Alice protested. “Dance didn’t turn you gay, any more t
han playing piano made Miranda gay, or being a computer geek turned Julian gay.”

  “Well, Julian’s here for gender-identity issues, not same-sex attraction.”

  “Whatever. My point is that your talents don’t make you gay. They’re just a part of who you are.” Alice turned to the table, where I sat, watching them dance. “Back me up, Miranda.”

  “I agree with Alice,” I said obediently.

  “I can tell when I’m on the losing side. I give up. I’m tired and thirsty, as well.” James stepped away from Alice and bowed. “Thank you for a lovely dance.”

  “You’re welcome,” Alice said with a curtsey. She frowned, though, as James walked away. “I’m not tired yet. Miranda, come dance with me.”

  “Girls aren’t even supposed to touch each other, here. I’m afraid that two girls dancing together may be too much for our councilors, even in their inebriated state. I don’t want to end the party,” I said.

  “Pastor Smith went to bed 15 minutes ago, and Ms. Sweeny has been dozing quite comfortably at the head of the table for the past 10 minutes. They will never know.”

  “Aren’t you afraid that Grace will tattle, again?”

  “Don’t worry; I have blackmail material. Grace won’t tell on me again for a long time. Please dance with me,” Alice said, pouting.

  “Okay,” I agreed, and joined her in a waltz.

  Alice took my hands in hers, looked into my eyes, and began to lead. She was, as James had said, a wonderful dance partner, confident and graceful, and I was about to compliment her when she spoke.

  “I wish you could have done the Angel dance with us in the nativity play. You’re very easy to lead, so I’m sure you’d be easy to direct. You’d probably argue less than Anna and Grace did.”

  “Thanks. Unfortunately, I can’t dance and play piano at the same time.”

  “Are you certain? You’re very talented. I was under the impression that you could do anything.”

  “You’re quite mistaken,” I said, blushing and lowering my head. At times, I found it difficult to tell whether Alice was making fun of me.

  “Name one thing you can’t do,” she challenged.

  “There are many things I can’t do. I can’t draw, for instance. I’ve tried numerous times, but I’m hopeless. Not like Clara- she’s a brilliant artist.”

  “Was the music-box from Clara?” Alice asked quietly, slowing our dance and drawing me closer.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to read the letter,” I said.

  Alice drew back and looked at me with her earnest, forget-me-not eyes.

  “Listen, Miranda, don’t get your hopes up. Chances are that Clara will not be waiting for you when you get home. I once had a ‘brilliant artist’ of my own, who taught me that lesson.”

  “I told her she didn’t have to wait,” I said defensively.

  “But you still hope, don’t you?” She asked.

  I stopped dancing and turned away from her gaze. I was spared having to answer her by the arrival of James, who came and handed each of us a cold soda he’d taken from the kitchen.

  “Are you both tired of dancing now, too?” he asked.

  “I am,” Alice replied. “It’s getting rather warm in here. Let’s go outside.”

  James offered Alice and I each an arm, and together the three of us walked into the courtyard.

  Outside was considerably colder, but the air was remarkably still, without a bit of wind to disturb the soft blanket of snow which covered the ground. The white Christmas lights, which were hung around the perimeter of the courtyard, and in the trees which lined the walkway leading to the chapel, glittered in the frosty air. The snow-covered ground shone in the moonlight.

  “What do you both think of your first white Christmas?” Julian asked.

  “I never said this was my first white Christmas,” I replied.

  “But it is, isn’t it?” he said. “You may not gush over the snow like Alice does, but you still look at it as though it were something special.”

  “It is something special,” Alice said, stepping forward into the moonlight. She looked around the courtyard slowly, as though committing the scene to memory, then turned and smiled mischievously. “Let’s have a snowball fight.”

  “I’m sorry, Alice, but it’s already past 1:00 in the morning, and I need to get some sleep,” James said.

  “Miranda?” Alice turned to me.

  “No, I have a mystery to solve, and then I need to sleep, as well.”

  Alice sighed, but let James hug her goodnight.

  “Merry Christmas,” James said, hugging us both in turn.

  “Merry Christmas,” we replied before separating to walk to the girls dormitories.

  Alice and I walked in silence, and when we reached our rooms, I turned to say goodnight to Alice, only to see her staring at me with a worried expression.

  “Is something the matter?” I asked.

  “No more than usual,” she said. She closed her eyes, murmured, “screw the rules,” and drew me into a hug.

  “Merry Christmas, Miranda,” she said, “even though Christmas sucks.”

  “Merry Christmas,” I managed to reply through my surprise.

  Alice pulled away, her hands on my shoulders, and studied me with serious eyes. Then she leaned forward. For a moment, I was afraid she would kiss me, but instead she whispered in my ear.

  “Think about what I told you.”

  Then she gave me a wry smile and disappeared into her room.

  #

  I went to my own room, and unwrapped the music box again. I placed the music box on my desk, wound it, and then took the envelope from the folds of tissue paper, where I’d left it. I wrapped myself in my blanket, sat on the bed, and opened the envelope with trembling hands.

  Inside were two, thick, intricately folded packets of paper. I opened the first, which was covered in a familiar, messy script.

  Dear Miranda,

  If you are reading this note, then I, Summer Wilde, am officially a genius! We plan to go to your mother as a group, minus Clara, to beg her to let us send you a Christmas present. Inside, we will hide this note, from all of us, and another note from Clara.

  So much has happened since you left, that I don’t know where to begin. First, the most important news- me and Chad are together! I know – it’s shocking, right? He’s sweet, though, and a surprisingly good kisser. If I’d known that dating a nerd would be like this, I would have given up handsome jocks years ago!

  Sadly, Chad is too nice for his own good. A couple of weeks ago, we had a party at the beach house. Candy Mountain was in rare form, and things got really wild. Some couples went into the unused rooms together, and Chad went to get us a room, but he walked in on David and Giselle. Chad totally lost it, and he and David got into a fight. Not only did poor Chad get his butt kicked, but he also got blamed for the fight. Chad’s uncle (he’s the one who owns the beach house, and he’s usually pretty cool) said that Candy Mountain can still practice there, but we’re not allowed to party there anymore.

  -Oh, Chad wants me to tell you that he got in a few good punches, and managed to black David’s eye. He also says that he misses you, and wishes you could be here to party with us and help him beat up David.

  Also, Jason says that he misses you, too. We all miss you, Miranda. Clara is putting on a brave face, but she is pretty unhappy, so keep trying, and I’m sure your parents will eventually let up, and let you come home. We’ve been trying to persuade them on this end, too.

  I hope you’re okay. Stay strong! We all love you.

  Summer, Chad, and Jason.”

  I smiled to myself as I folded the letter again, and wondered how they persuaded my parents to let them send the gift.

  The second letter was covered in a beautiful, neat script.

  “Dear Miranda,

  It’s a beautiful, rainy night as I write this. It’s already past midnight, but I am too restless to sleep. My Mom and I have just returned from Corpus
Christi, where we watched her old company perform The Nutcracker, and then attended the cast party. All evening, I was reminded of you in so many, small ways. For instance, the girl who danced the role of Clara looked like you. There was something musical about the way she danced which made me think of the way you move when you play the piano. I bought you a gift- a music box- hoping that I’d be able to give it to you for Christmas. I don’t know if I’ll succeed, and I don’t know if you will ever read this letter, but Summer and I will try to find a way, and Summer is an evil genius at times. I’m certain there is some way we can send you a message, even if the means are dishonest. I believe, in this case, the ends justify the means.

  I’m doing well, and I’m enjoying the grey, rainy weather. I’m certain it’s not as beautiful as the snow that you’re no doubt enjoying. It has its own charm, though, and I’ve been going to the beach a lot, staring into the “wine dark sea.” It’s too quiet to stay at home. My sister got into some trouble recently- she got Chad in some trouble, too- so she’s been sent to live with Dad for a while. She likes living with Dad, and she’s away from David, so it’s for the best, but I still can’t stand how peaceful things are without her.

  I hope you are safe and well. Summer and Chad have been inquiring about you periodically, and your parents don’t seem to be too annoyed with them, yet. Your mother said you are living in a beautiful, refurbished abbey, that it’s been snowing, and that you’re in good health. I hate the thought of your being cloistered away in an abbey, but your mother insists that it’s really beautiful, and that you’re allowed to see the outside world from time to time.

  I have a million questions to ask, but I suppose I will have to save them for when you return. I hope that time will come home soon. There isn’t much I can do, unfortunately, but sit and wait, because Summer and Chad think your parents won’t listen to me as well as them.